Page 43 of Only Ever You

“Are we expecting someone?” Matt asked the room.

The doorbell impatiently rang again.

Little did anyone know how soon their tranquil bubble would burst.

Arthur led the curious crowd out into the hallway. Like some kind of presentation, they all lined up behind one another andBash lingered at the rear with Faye. His father opened the front door and?—

“Mortimer?”

The wall of silence deafened like a prelude to a thunderstorm.

“Well this looks like a party.”

* Granny?

* Sweetie

14

FAYE

In the blink of silence,Faye didn’t know where to look. Her eyes bounced from Arthur’s gawp to the not-so-stoic indignation reddening Michèle’s face. Hands on his daughters’ shoulders, Matt grimaced, and Saira was like a split screen of Michèle. There was something Faye missed in the last ten seconds for them all to look so offended.

She didn’t need to turn her head to Bash – a hum of irritation vibrated off of him and set their little portion of the hall a few degrees lower.

“Mortimer?”

Mortimer? … Oh no.

Faye’s heart beat into a canter on Bash’s behalf.

“Well this looks like a party.” Grinning like he’d hit the jackpot, Mortimer waltzed in, uninvited, dropping his wrinkled leather weekend bag on the welcome mat.

Arthur stammered, “It … what are you?—”

“What are you doing here?” Michèle’s accent sharpened the shard of ice in her question.

“It’s Christmas, Shelly.” Mortimer grinned, though mirth wasn’t in his eyes.

That wasn’t an answer, and with the flash of heat crossing Michèle’s eyes and the flare of her nose, she didn’t care for that nickname, either. Bash’s breaths sounded heavier beside Faye while his uncle’s pale eyes roved through the hallway.

“And you’re all here,” Mortimer said.

Uncle Mortimer; Arthur’s older but by no means wiser brother. According to the stories she’d heard from Bash, the balding, liver-spotted man had no verbal filter and didn’t care who he offended, nor seemed to realise he did so.Frequently.

His gaze landed on her last and Faye boldly felt every inch of her insides tighten.

“Ah, who are you, young lady?”

Bash tensed beside her as Uncle Mortimer warbled along the hall, passing Matt and Saira without a word. Faye couldn’t be impolite, no matter the darkly-painted stories she’d heard.

“Faye,” she replied.

“My friend.” No one could ignore the clip in Bash’s voice as his arm brushed hers, though Uncle Mortimer apparently did.

“Hm. I can see why.”

Faye’s stomach curled and she had to grab Bash’s jumper sleeve before he did anything stupid.

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